The Aftermath
by Donna Vito Frutti
Summary: Everywhere he looked, he could only see death, death, death… The price of dark magic and darker ambitions. Death, and destruction, and blood. And more blood.
1. Chapter 1

**THE AFTERMATH**

**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Season 2**

**Round 2**

**Position - Beater 1**

**Team ****- Wimbourne Wasps**

**Prompts ****- Quicksand, burying,creature**

**Disclaimer**** - JKR owns it all**

**A/N - Enjoy**

* * *

**THE AFTERMATH**

* * *

Draco felt like he was slowly sinking into a quicksand. It was as if he were being sucked into a harsh reality of life as it slowly set in. He could feel nothing. The battle had ended and he could feel no joy, no grief…

Nothing.

"Draco." His mother placed a comforting arm on his shoulder.

But he could feel no comfort.  
Not yet.

He still felt empty. Drained. Numb.  
He glanced at his father sitting with his face buried in his hands.

Surely, he, too, was responsible for all this.

He may not have cast the spell that shed the blood, but the Dark Lord had been _his _master, as much as of the other death eaters.

_And mine too_, Draco thought, _I'm a death eater, too._

_I bring death. _

_Wherever I go, death follows…_

Draco felt the dark mark burning into his skin. This was to be his legacy. A mark of all the wrong choices he made in his life and a sign of all his failures. A constant remainder that he, too, was to blame for the actions of his master. That he too, was a murderer.  
Murderer, because, the Dark Lord, his master was a murderer.

The Dark Lord who had promised a new world order. A haven for the pure blood and an age where wizards no longer had to hide. This, then, was the price. This was the true end that the Dark Lord had always sought.

The Dark Lord had always spoken of the purity of blood. Yet, now, all the illusions of blood purity lay shattered around him.  
Everywhere he looked, he could only see death, death, death…

The price of dark magic and darker ambitions.

Death, and destruction, and blood.  
And more blood.

Draco felt nauseated.

In a distance he could see the Weasleys, who were gathered around a body. He realized that it was one of the twins, for he could see the other, possibly, George Weasley, grieving, and his sobs racking his body…  
…and he could see the lifeless bodies of many others who were slain in the battle...their eyes unseeing, and staring up...

Friends? Foes?

It didn't really matter now, for they were all equal in death…

This was not a world order as was promised. This had been a bloody massacre. A mindless destruction. A murder of countless innocent souls who had lived and breathed as he did now.

The service to the Dark Lord had taken its own toll on his family. His mother had had to stand by and watch the consequences of her husband's actions unfold before her very eyes; watch as death eaters and werewolves took over their home like they had taken over their lives; watch as murders were committed right before them; watch as her own son performed an unforgivable curse…

For his father, the ordeal had been more terrible. He had suffered, first, from his imprisonment in Azkaban, and then from the Dark Lord himself. His failures had been paid for. He, Draco had paid for them through his service.  
The mark that was carved into his skin had been the contract that bound him to his master.

And his master had assigned him an impossible task.  
Dumbledore's death.

An assignment that guaranteed his failure, and thus, death by the hands of the very master whom he served. Draco remembered the night…he had been so filled with a sense of hopelessness, as to seek comfort in a ghost...

"_No one can help me,"_ he had said. And he was shaking_. "I can't do it…I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…"_

He had almost given it all up, then. He could have gone for help, then. But he hadn't.

No, he had been too cowardly.

He also remembered the night of Dumbledore's death, when Dumbledore had appealed to him, and asked him to choose the right path.

"_You are not a killer,"_ Dumbledore had told him, while assuring him that he could guarantee his and his family's protection.

Why hadn't he accepted then?  
Simply, because he had been too scared.  
Too scared, by then, to even choose the course of action that he knew, had always known, to be right. In the end, it was his mother who had saved them.

She had picked a side and had chosen her family, whole and complete. She had chosen her family over everything else.  
Even blood purity.

The threat to their family had finally opened their eyes and allowed them to see the Dark Lord for who he really was-

A mindless tyrant. A ruthless killer.

His father still wielded enough influence to exonerate them all, of course.

But that was not going to be enough. They were never going to be the same, again. Not entirely.  
This war had shaken up his family too badly.

Draco suddenly felt a deep sense of disgust for himself. He was a miserable creature, indeed.  
A coward.  
He had joined the ranks of murderers. He had tried to murder Dumbledore. He had stood by and watched the torture of a fellow student...  
His entire life he had believed in the superiority of his family.

And now, the very people he considered beneath him, had fought bravely against the Dark Lord. They had freed him from a frightening allegiance to him. And they had died honourably.

His hands would forever be stained with the blood that was spilt in the battle. Forever dirtied and bloody.  
As bloody as his tainted heart.

Perhaps, he would never feel whole again. Perhaps, he would never feel.

"Are you alright, Draco?"

Draco was shaken out of his thoughts by his father's voice.

It was barely more than a whisper and sounded drawn. He glanced at his father.

Lucius Malfoy looked pale and haggard, and just tired, looking, perhaps, as miserable as he felt.

"I'm fine," he replied, though, not quite feeling it.

He felt his mother grasp his shoulder once more.

"We'll get through this," she said, softly and embraced him.

Narcissa turned to Lucius.

"It's going to be alright."

She reached out to Lucius, who took her hand in his.

She repeated, "We'll get through this."

Lucius nodded.  
They wanted to believe that. Draco allowed himself to feel comfort in her presence. He allowed himself to believe his mother's words.

Perhaps.

Perhaps they would.

He closed his eyes.

Perhaps…

Perhaps…

_Perhaps..._

He felt strangely calm.

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**_A/N_**** - Draco is actually in shock. All the terror and fear of past so many months and the death of his friend is crashing down on him. Victory of the battle is only slowly sinking in. Lucius and Narcissa are just glad they found their son.**

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	2. Break down

He felt suffocated. His felt his tie closing in and frantically pried it loose, but couldn't stop the tightening in his throat. He tore his collar open and clawed at his throat, leaving nail marks around it. His eyes watered as he felt a slight pain in his chest.  
His breaths became quicker.  
Waves and waves of despair washed over him and he thought he was going to die.  
And, then, suddenly he was sobbing.  
"No, I can't...  
I can't do it. No one can help me."  
His hands were shaking and he placed them over the sink to support himself.


End file.
